Allisse entered the dining room. Lupin was playing a simple melody on his violin, something light and airy. And he had changed from his normal livery into more formal garb. Allisse passed through the doorway into the kitchen where Elizabeth was frying bacon in a skillet while dodging Remon putting a tray of tarts into the oven.
“I noticed the table hadn’t been set yet,” said Allisse. “Is that something you need me to do?”
Remon smiled, “She’s catching on quickly.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Did you remember how Thinneus set the table earlier today?”
Allisse shook her head. “Sorry, I was distracted by all the chaos.”
Elizabeth flipped a piece of bacon and turned to Allisse. “As before, we place an ice bucket on the table with a selection of beverages. Each place setting gets a trencher, goblet, napkin, and silverware. The fork goes on the left while the spoon and knife go on the right.”
“We really use forks here?” asked Allisse. “Aren’t those a bit… froofy?” She’d heard talk of nobles who were too delicate to even touch food with their hands, but she’d always assumed it was a made-up rumor.
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “It’s not the custom in this land, but our patrons are from all around the world. Besides, forks might be an extravagance to you, but this is the Alabaster Inn. We do our best to provide everything a guest might wish for.”
Allisse didn’t even bother to ask about why she was told to set knives and spoons out when she’d never heard of a place that didn’t expect you to bring your own. Maybe this was just in case a patron had forgotten their set at home.
When Allisse had finished with the place settings, she returned and Elizabeth pointed to the spice bowls. “Distribute those around the table,” the chef said. Allisse had thought she’d been paid extremely well today, but she couldn’t afford a tenth the value in spices she was putting out on that table.
“We didn’t have these on the table at lunch,” said Allisse “was that a mistake or…?”
Elizabeth sighed. “No, it’s a luxury we reserve for dinner. I season my food just the way it needs to be, and I don’t think we need to put those out just for guests to ruin the food. But other nobles have bowls of spices out on formal occasions, and Marcaveus doesn’t want to leave our guests any reason to fault his hospitality. So for dinner, we have spices.”
Allisse considered this. “Then every dinner is a formal occasion?”
Elizabeth nodded and Remon said “Indeed.”
Elizabeth looked up from her cooking and said “So, you need to be more on the job than you were at lunch. This is the highlight of our workday.”
After taking the spice bowls to the table, Allisse brought out the rosewater bowls next and people began washing their hands. She noticed the crowd was at least twice as big as had been at lunch, and still streaming in. Lupin for the most part was letting people pick their own places, but they mostly seated themselves according to protocol, with nobles at the places of highest honor, merchants more toward the middle, and servants on the ends. Though Allisse noticed the adventurers in the mix tended to sit wherever they pleased.
The temple bells tolled ten times and Lupin moved to the center of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, peoples of all stations and nations, it is time for the Alabaster Inn’s nightly feast. We will strive to entertain your hearts, your minds, your imaginations, and of course, your stomachs.” A bit of laughter went through the crowd. “As we start our journey, I’d like each of you to think back to the beginning of the world, when the gods had defeated and bound Chaos and were making the world. They brought order and beauty to a realm that was all storm and confusion. Let us see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears.”
He began playing his violin, a calm, even set of notes that left an expectation of more to come. And as he did, translucent illusions began to form, showing in the center of the room a gray sphere covered in whirling clouds and chaotic bursts of energy. And as he played, the music moved from empty to hopeful as the gods surrounded it, each a different color and shining with divine power. They held out their hands and the storms quieted, then raised their hands in unison and landmasses arose from the sea, matching up with maps Allisse had seen before.
Lupin continued, getting lost in the music, as Guthryn the Illumined called forth the flaming orb of the sun and set it to circling the world. Then Adara the Lifegiver breathed on the world, bringing forth trees and plants of every kind. It went on, as each of the gods added something new and wondrous to the world, and Allisse stood enraptured as much by the music as she was the magic that Lupin was weaving with his playing.
The song continued, increasing with intensity, and reaching a fever pitch during the Divine Strife as the creations warred on earth to echo the fighting amongst the gods. It calmed at the death of Surrus, whose loss brought the gods to realize the cost of their fighting, and the music turned hopeful as they began repairing what they had wrought.
The view of the world was magnified almost as if the audience was flying closer on birds’ wings, and they no longer saw the whole of the earth but various parts of it. And as their view soared over the land it also flew through the ages, pausing ever so slightly to touch on major historical events. Allisse saw the foundation of the City of Everlasting light, the Concord of Seven Nations, the Great Impact, and a few others she didn’t recognize. Then, Albert the First led his soldiers in a fight against the Red Hand Horde, driving them out of the land and establishing the Shining Empire which grew and expanded with each note played until the view zoomed in on the capitol city into a single building which was the Alabaster Inn. The audience saw themselves flying in through the door past a series of luxuries until they came to the dining hall and were seated exactly where they were seated. Lupin played one final note and bowed.
The audience stood and applauded. Allisse joined in, overjoyed. She’d seen bits of magic before, but nothing as wondrous as this. Lupin hummed slightly and she heard in her mind,
“What’s wrong?” asked Allisse.
“I’m not seeing anything wrong,” said Elizabeth. “And that’s what worries me. Things never go this smoothly.”
“My cake isn’t going well,” said Remon. Elizabeth just handed Allisse a tray of roasted fowl and gave her a nudge back out the door.
Allisse returned to the dining room and Lupin glanced at the plaque before announcing. “Our first course begins with roasted pheasant with Asteron boar bacon and mushroom gravy. And for those who are willing to try something more daring, we have a recipe for garum that dates back to the Changar Empire. It’s an intense flavor, but I assure you, the bold will be rewarded.”
Allise was on hand with the next tray, and Lupin read the plaque for a few seconds and announced, “Next we have fruit tarts that incorporate pears from Salgoden forest, berries from Northington shire, and even icefruit from the northern junction. You may think me a spellcaster, but getting all that fresh to our kitchen was a magic far beyond my meager talents. These tarts also include a mystery ingredient from much closer to home. Remon is preparing a special dessert for whoever can guess what that ingredient is, and I would call your tastebuds to readiness because that is a prize not to be missed.” Welby had already taken two before passing the tray, and he tasted the first inquisitively.
Allisse had already placed the next tray on the table, but she’d given the ivory plaque on it to Lupin first. And he now announced, “We finish out this first course with quintlecup pasta. Now, we’ve had some misinformed patrons try to tell our head chef how to make this particular halfling delicacy, and each of them had a different idea of how it should be done. She eventually decided the only way to make everyone happy was to make everyone happy, and so she crafted four different sauces, each corresponding to a different shire’s traditions. Going clockwise around the tray they represent Rollingshire, Heartwood Shire, Berringshire, and of course Northington shire. Choose for yourself if you can resign yourself to only trying one, but I recommend you give each an opportunity and taste for yourself which is truly superior.”
He raised his violin to his cheek and said, “And if anyone’s appetite is still holding back, I’d like to draw it out with this next song, ‘The Feast of Marnus’.”
Allisse knew the story, how Marnus had descended in human guise to feed a group of weary adventurers after a hard battle. It was popular at harvest festivals. But she’d never heard it played like this. Lupin’s fingers danced over the violin, rising and falling with the pitch of the music as he fiddled the cheerful jig. This one came with its own set of illusions, a team of nymphs bearing the bounty of the forest, and far less clothing than she’d seen in an illustration one time, although it was more than nothing which is what she’d heard they typically wore in real life. They danced as they laid down exotic fruits, collections of vegetables, goblets of wine, fine oil, and other things she couldn’t quite recognize. And as the adventurers ate, the nymphs danced, all led by Marnus, who fiddled extravagantly to choreograph the whole thing. It was a common song, but the way Lupin played it, fiddling, drumming on his instrument, plucking the strings, somehow he was able to produce an entire band’s worth of instruments all by himself. She wondered if she’d ever be able to appreciate another harvest musician’s playing again, and then realized it didn’t matter; this was something she’d never forget. It also did what Lupin promised; all the patrons were hungrily eating and Allisse's stomach was roaring at her to sit down and join them. But she had a job to do.
Lupin brought his playing to a close and received another round of applause. “Your kindness warms my heart. I must repay you. Does anyone have any requests?” There was a pause, then a gnome shouted, “Play ‘The Ballad of the Kingsbury Three’.”
Lupin nodded and began to play. Three illusory figures strode into the room. She didn’t recognize them, but Allisse assumed these were the Kingsbury Three. They looked like heroic adventurers, certainly. Lupin sang out their story, each verse relating a chronicle of their lives. His voice always had a musical tilt to it, but it was as if it was only while singing that he was truly himself. He told of how the group formed, defending their village, and then chronicled their defeat of the hordes who had launched that invasion, then the battle against the warlock that had sent those hordes, and then the descent into the nether realms to battle the demon who had granted that warlock his powers. The song wound down as Lupin sang of the death of Baryon, and the wedding of the other two members. But Allisse made sure to duck out before the finale so she could be ready with the next course before the applause ended.
As Allisse set it on the table, Lupin announced, “Our second course begins with these elegant kebabs. Now, anyone who has even heard of our inn’s reputation knows that Elizabeth would not deign to create something you could purchase from a simple street vendor unless she had something wonderful in mind to transform it. And you would not be mistaken. These kebabs were marinated according to a recipe purchased at great price from the personal assistant to the maharajah of Dybanal. From there, Elizabeth made a few improvements and what results is the culinary delight that lies before you. They incorporate venison, beef, onion, carrot, and peppers, and are arranged from least spicy at the head of the tray to spiciest at the foot. I suspect even the fire-breathing dragonborn here will be challenged by the last one. If you want a little help dealing with the spice, might I suggest the tzatziki sauce which, in addition to being a delicious accompaniment, has a mellowing effect on the heat.”
As Allise was picking up the next tray from the kitchen she asked Elizabeth, “How much did you have to pay for the kebab recipe?”
Elizabeth huffed. “Eight loaves of traveler’s bread and my recipe for sauteed lamb. He drove a hard bargain.”
Allisse brought out the next dish and Lupin said, “And now we bring you an elven recipe: golden elk filet wreathed in fried parsnip crisps and sprinkled with saffron and other herbs.” He looked around quickly, as if he was expecting someone who wasn’t there yet.
Allisse hadn’t cleared any dishes, but it appeared the Inn patrons had been too enraptured by the music to remember to eat because they were still grabbing food from the dishes. She picked up the last pheasant, which everyone seemed to be done with, brought it back to the kitchen, returning with a tray of food. Lupin announced, “A delight for both eyes and innards: stuffed mushrooms with cream sauce topped with fried eel.” This last one seemed to be a bit divisive for the dinner crowd; some were enraptured at the sight while others passed immediately.
Allise grabbed the remaining dishes from the first course and took them back to the kitchen. When she returned, Elizabeth was putting the final touches on some baked cucumbers while Remon was turning his cake so the part that still needed work was facing him. He seemed to be engrossed in assembling small figures out of fruit bits and candies and arranging them on the cake.
Allisse picked up one of the tarts and bit into it, enjoying the mixture of fruity flavors, warm pastry, and cool icing. The first one was delicious, so she had another, considering it more carefully. “Did you put persimmons in these?” She asked Remon.
The elf looked up from his work, “Hmm?”
“The tarts. Lupin said you had a mystery ingredient in here. Was it persimmon?”
He chuckled and refocused on his work. “Nope, but that’s a good guess.” He was making a group of tiny dancers out of candies and adding them to the cake.
That sparked an idea. “Candy,” she said. “Some kind of gumdrop or something?”
He shook his head. “That does sound like something I would do, but you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
Allisse finished the tart but it refused to yield any more of its secrets. The doors were opened by a magical hand and Wren flew in. “Are those tarts?” She picked one up with her own tiny hands and her wings buzzed furiously as she strained to move it to a plate, and then she set about consuming it. For a bit, it was quiet in the kitchen and Allisse heard Lupin’s music coming through the door. It was wondrous, and her heart urged her to go out and see the performance for herself. But her stomach demanded more of this wonderful food and it won out. She sliced off a large portion of pheasant and set to eating it. “This is amazing,” she said.
Elizabeth nodded. “I wrap the pheasant in bacon to keep it moist and keep the herbs stuck to the meat. It also makes for excellent bacon; you should try it.”
Allisse gladly did so, and the smoky flavor mixed with savory bacon and delicious herbs in her mouth. “Mmm. Thatsh sho good.”
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Out in the dining hall there was a roar of applause, and soon a new song started.
Remon waved his hand over a small candy structure and it metamorphosed from a simple hut into a beautiful gazebo. Then he looked up at Allisse. “I’m afraid I’m going to need a bit more of my magic to complete this than I thought. Would you mind if I undid the changes I made to your ribbon a bit early to free that bit of energy up?”
“Of course,” said Allisse. “It’ll take more than that to make me fit in here anyway.”
“Nonsense,” said Remon. “I know that you’ll be just fine without the extra decoration. This cake on the other hand…” He weaved a bit of magic over a part of it that he wasn’t happy with. “Wren, are you still able to cover this cake in glitterdust when I’m done decorating it?’
Wren nodded, her mouth too full of pastry and fruit filling to speak.
Allisse dished herself up a trencher full of quintlecup pasta and, after a bit of hesitation, decided to put each of the four sauces on a different part of the pasta to give each a try. Everyone else was busy cooking, decorating, or eating, and she found her thoughts wandering.
It was nice eating here in the kitchen, away from the patrons at the Inn. Here, she didn’t feel like she was striving to fit in and failing miserably. She still didn’t fit in, everyone else knew what they were doing and was good at what they did, and she wasn’t. But at least she didn’t have to pretend. She could sit, she could eat, she could catch her breath without wondering who was going to yell at her next or make some demand she couldn’t fulfill.
And yet, looking around, it still felt weird to her, seeing more money than she’d ever had in her life dedicated just to the preparation of food. And this area wasn’t even extravagantly decorated like most of the Inn was. Instead of feeling completely out of her depths, she was only mostly out of her depths here. Like maybe she could fit in here one day, if she really tried. But would she ever fit in out among the patrons? It didn’t seem likely. Her pasta was mostly untouched and she set herself to eating again. A full meal was not a thing to waste, especially one this delicious. She was close to finishing when Elizabeth handed her a tray of food. “That song’s coming to an end; you’ll want to be out there with the dish ready.”
Allisse picked it up and stepped through the door right as Lupin finished his last note. He examined its plaque and said, “Don’t let your eyes deceive you. This next dish is not mere steamed vegetables. Instead, you are beholding mortadella in a cucumber casing. Let the mixture of cheese, sausage, and butter wash around your mouth, over your heart, and down into your stomach.”
When Allisse returned to the kitchen, Elizabeth and Remon were carefully moving a giant sugar sculpture that surrounded the cake Remon had been working on. It showed various peoples experiencing delight and wonder amidst a scene of utter beauty, and while Allisse had seen it in progress, now that she saw the whole thing it was overwhelming, two thirds as tall as she was and more beautiful than a bride on her wedding day. “We’ll have to carry it out together,” said Remon. He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes begged her not to do anything that might jeopardize his creation. Together they lifted the tray carrying it, and it was almost as heavy as a small child. They moved slowly out of the kitchen. Allisse backed through the doorway, ducking to make sure the cake didn’t knock against the top of the doorframe. And as she turned to check behind her, she felt the tray bump into the door ever so slightly. The cake wobbled and she and Remon each held their breath, but it steadied and they began moving again.
As they neared the table, the entire kitchen was silent, watching with a mixture of awe and trepidation, but they set it down without disturbing a single decoration. When the applause died down, Lupin began to speak. “Remon has truly outdone himself with this final piece. I hardly need to introduce it, except I would be doing it a disservice with my silence. What you see before you is a representation of the seven heavens, each tier depicting the rewards that await the faithful according to their deeds. Such pieces are usually called ‘follies’, but if this is folly then I can scarcely imagine what wisdom must be. Tonight, regardless of our deeds, each of us gets to taste a piece of heaven.”
Ardryll walked past Allisse, her hair damp. Gone was the tomboyish stablehand with smudges of dirt and practical work clothes. She now wore a white on black gown and had her hair done in an elegant style, and as she passed by Allisse caught a hint of perfume. The elf still carried her wooden pipes as she waited for Lupin to finish his song and then strode to stand beside him.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Lupin, “I present the beautiful Ardryll Fenroris.” A round of applause erupted.
“More late than beautiful,” said Ardryll shyly.
“Nonsense,” said Lupin. “The finest things are always worth waiting for. And now it’s time for-”
Welby cut him off, shouting, “When the Kingfisher Comes Anon.”
Lupin shook his head. “You ask for that more nights than not.”
“And it’s good on all of them,” said Welby. “At least I’m not requesting ‘Harold and His Giant Snake’ this time.” Lupin looked at Ardryll and she shrugged. And then he began playing the notes to a deep and sorrowful love ballad.
This one didn’t have any illusions with it, but from the lyrics Allisse gathered that the song was the story of two lovers, a woman and a sailor aboard a ship called the Kingfisher. Lupin and Ardryll circled the table, remaining on opposite sides as each other as they took turns proclaiming their undying love and how much they longed to see each other when the Kingfisher returned to port. The pipes and violin blended beautifully and the way they sang Allisse was nearly moved to tears. She felt an overwhelming desire to go out, find her boyfriend, and wrap him in her arms. Which was weird, given that she had no boyfriend and never had. These two knew a kind of magic that didn’t require casting any spells. The way they sang with all their hearts, it seemed for a moment as if the two of them were not just singing about a pair of longing lovers, but actually were the lovers themselves.
Lupin was breathing heavily as he ended this last song, struggling to plaster over his exhaustion with a smile. A figure stepped noiselessly into the room, and things got quiet. It was Marcaveus. No one seemed shocked to see him, but no one except Welby and the staff seemed exactly comfortable with the fact either. Marcaveus began to applaud softly and everyone else did likewise. Then he spoke. “Well done, as always. If there are no objections, would you play ‘The Stand at Morganthi Castle’?”
Lupin paused. “If… if you truly wish me to play then I will.” He tucked his violin under his chin and Marcaveus made a few arcane gestures and a soft chant and magic flowed into Lupin as the elf and began to play. The resulting illusion was far more intense; it unfolded into a scene of a twisting road leading to a dark castle under a grim sky. Lining the road were bodies on stakes, hundreds of them. But sunlight broke the clouds to shine on a group of adventurers riding with purpose down the trail. As they rode, a glimmer of hope sprung up in the peasants working the field, but only a glimmer.
Lupin deepened the notes as the adventurers approached the castle. The gate lifted of its own accord, and they dismounted and entered. The courtyard filled with undead, but the adventurers ignored them to stare at the balcony, and for good reason. Above them all was a monster in humanoid form, a vampire whose mouth bristled with fangs and whose fingertips oozed shadows. He spread his bat wings and shouted something at them. Allisse didn’t know what, Lupin wasn’t singing and the illusion had no words. But the notes carried the meaning. The vampire mocked them, demanding they submit. The adventurers return with a challenge, defiant. And then they fought.
Lupin’s playing became frantic. With each trill of notes a new scene appeared. The fighter clashing with a horde of skeletons. The ranger shooting at a ghoul while her animal companion bit its leg. The wizard flinging spells at the vampire who effortlessly warded them. The cleric rallying his allies with a miracle. The notes got hopeful.
But it was only for a moment. The fighter went down first, pulled into the darkness by some shadowy beast. The ranger was overwhelmed by ghosts and dropped to her ground as her wolf, now reanimated as undead, began devouring her alive. The wizard’s magic was no match for this vampire’s, and a black bolt struck him dead instantly.
The cleric pushed into the keep, and there in the dark cathedral they faced off. The cleric called upon his faith, and the vampire let a single drop of black blood fall upon the altar as he invoked the dark gods worshiped there. The visuals became two glowing auras as light and dark energies collided. And good was winning. But a single drop of sweat ran down the cleric’s face, an instant of doubt. And it was over. Black tendrils broke through the barrier of light and consumed the cleric. The song ended with mournful, funereal notes as the castle gates closed, the clouds choked off the faint rays of the sun, and the peasants put their heads down and returned to their labors without any surprise that the land was once again returning to darkness. The last image was the same road the heroes had rode in on, but now with four more bodies impaled on spikes. The song closed with a single, sorrowful trill.
Marcaveus broke the silence. “A toast to those who risked their lives to fight against tyranny of Count Morganthi. While fate did not grant them the victory they deserved, we salute their courage and sacrifice in the face of utter evil.” Everyone drank to that.
Allisse still felt nervous around Marcaveus, and she took the opportunity to gather a few trays of food and return them to the kitchen. Lupin’s last ballad had undermined her appetite, but she took a kebab, drizzled tzatziki sauce on it, and set to eating. Her stomach grudgingly put up with it. Thinneus and Ardryll came in as well and began piling a tray full of food items. Lupin said to Remon, “Welby guessed it, although it took him a few tries before he got to ‘carrots’.”
Remon chuckled, and pulled out a small pie, then began decorating it. The diners eating the cake must have freed up some of the magic power he’d invested in its decoration, because as he waved his hand over the pie it transformed into an image of Welby’s face, winking and smirking. “Allisse,” he said, “would you be so kind as to take this to our victor?”
Allisse nodded and picked up the pie. Lupin held the door open for her and then Ardryll as they took their tray of food off to eat somewhere else. Allisse handed the pie to Welby who gaped with excited glee. “Well,” he said, “this is one pie whose beauty I’ll be heartbroken to disturb.” He then dug in with an excitement that undermined the truth of what he’d just said.
Marcaveus beckoned Allisse over to him, then said. “Your quarters are upstairs. You may retire to them at your leisure.” He gestured at a pair of skeletons in the back. “The night crew will take over from here.”
Allisse hesitated, then spoke. “I need to tend to my grandmother. Is it okay if I return home, care for her, and spend the night in my own bed?”
“If that’s what you wish,” said Marcaveus. “Where do you live?”
“In Skinner’s Row, on the East Side.”
“That’s a long journey this late. Cyprian, take the coach and escort this girl home.”
A shadow detached itself from the wall and coalesced into an elderly elf clad in an archaic fashion, but still the Alabaster Inn’s white on black livery. “As you say.” He was pale as a corpse but spry despite his apparent age. He motioned to her to follow as he glided down the hall and Allisse did, grabbing the last remnants of her dinner.
When they came to the stables, the animals began to balk at Cyprian’s presence. But the horses seemed passive. Cyprian opened the gate and whispered something and the horses took their positions next to the carriage as he quickly and effortlessly hitched them. He looked at her, and offered her his hand up onto the driver’s bench. She took it and Cyprian sat beside her, then flicked the reins and the horses started off into the night.
They sat there for some time, the only sound being the clatter of horseshoes on pavement and the hubbub of the city winding down in the glow of the lamplight. The coach hit a cobblestone, and Allisse accidentally bumped into her silent companion. He felt cold to the touch. That was unsettling, but not surprising; the man was clearly undead.
Cyprian broke the silence. “How did you find our inn?”
How to answer that? Amazing. Terrifying. Overwhelming. Confusing. A place where unimaginable sums of money changed hands on a daily basis. “It was nice,” she said.
Cyprian nodded. “It is, isn’t it.”
“How long have you been working for Marcaveus?”
Cyprian thought. “It’s hard to say; we used a different calendar in those days and conversion is always a chore. But it was some time before the reign of the Sapphire Empress.”
“Wow, is the Inn that old?’
Cyprian coughed lightly, almost a laugh. “No. Marcaveus has led a full and varied existence. He reclaimed his estate sixteen years ago and dedicated it to hospitality.”
Along the road, a few merchants were trying to squeeze a bit more profit out of the day, but most were taking down their stalls for the night.
“We had a busy crowd today,” said Allisse.
“Actually, this is quite a slow day for the Alabaster Inn. Just a month ago we had all but two or three of our rooms occupied; nearly a hundred people at the Inn and the staff to attend to their needs. But that’s taken a recent change, one I hope will be temporary.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Madame Devreaux’s opened up and sees itself as a challenger. They’re nothing more than a bordello with delusions of grandeur. But some of our former patrons haven’t realized their mistake in choosing otherwise. I’m confident they’ll return one day.” Allisse waited, but he offered no further explanation.
They were now in Skinner’s Row; you could tell by the stench, though Cyprian didn’t seem to notice. “You can turn right past that tanner’s shack,” Allisse said.
Cyprian nodded. After the turn he said, “The Inn is a place of excellence, and many pages, once they see the standard of service that is required of them, simply leave without saying a word.” He nudged the horses to avoid a pothole. “I can see the day has taken its toll on you. Do you intend to return tomorrow, or should we begin seeking out your replacement?”
That was a question Allisse had been asking herself. Up until now, every day had been a struggle for food, clothing, and a place to live. Now she was well fed, dressed better than most, and had her choice of two dwellings to lie down for the night, plus money to spare after all that was said and done. But how long would it last? An inn full of undead and professional killers. Wealthy merchants who wouldn’t set foot in Skinner’s Row for fear of soiling the suede on their shoes. Poncy nobles who expected a level of service she could never provide. She didn’t belong here, and it wouldn’t take long before everyone figured that out. The staff pretended otherwise; maybe they were too busy to realize who she was yet. But that wouldn’t last. “I don’t know,” said Allisse, not wanting to stir up trouble with the undead man.
She looked around. “This is my house,” she said. They’d actually passed it. Cyprian stopped the coach and Allisse got down. As she walked back to her house, she saw it as Cyprian had to be seeing it, a dilapidated shack patched with scrap wood and burlap, a place the Alabaster Inn’s usual patrons would rather die than spend one night in. Cyprian left without a word and Allisse went inside.
The rush light was lit, and by its dim glow Allisse saw her grandmother hunched over a stewpot. She knew its contents would be mostly water with a few scraps that provided more flavor than substance. The woman turned slowly, smiled, coughed, and said “How was work?”
Allisse’s mind didn’t have enough left to process that. “It was… long.” She pulled out the potion she’d purchased earlier. “I got you the medicine. And here’s the leftover money from my tips. I can buy some food tomorrow at the market.”
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so. It’s… it’s not for me.”
“They seem to like you.” A coughing fit interrupted her raspy voice. “They brought you home in a fancy carriage, and look at all the tips you earned. If that’s not appreciation I don’t know what is.”
Allisse went to argue, but stopped. How could she explain that wasn’t generosity, it was just the scrapings of the bottom of the pot to the Alabaster Inn. “I’m done for the day, grandmother. I’m sorry. Do you need anything before I get to bed?”
“No, no child. Rest well. You’ve earned it.”
Allisse didn’t even bother changing out of her clothes. She laid down on the bed, and sleep came instantly.
When she awoke later, the first rays of dawn were glimmering through the window. But it wasn’t the light that woke her up, it was the smell: bacon. Was this a dream? She stood up, stiff from the previous day’s exertions, and walked to the next room. In the center room, her grandmother held a pan with sizzling scraps of meat in it. “Good morning.” No raspy voice, no cough, and she looked healthier than Allisse had seen her in years. The medicine had worked! Grandmother wasn’t going to die.
“You’re cured!” shouted Allisse.
“Of course,” said her grandmother. “I wanted to thank you for all you did, so I went out early and got some good meat for a change. Sit down and eat up.”
As Allisse sat down to eat, something spilled out of her pocket. Thinneus note! It read, Marcaveus seeks out the best in everything, and he chose you. He sees what’s special in you, noble blood or not, the same as I do. You belong here. Allisse grabbed some pieces of bacon and wrapped them in the vellum, then kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Sorry to eat and run but I have to get going.”
“Where to?”
Allisse turned as she dashed out the door. “I’m late for work.” She dashed down the street. It was already sunrise, Marcaveus would be down for the night. But if she hurried, she could meet up with Thinneus and get a jump on the morning’s activities before the new patrons arrived.
End book one.